


the bisexual's guide to shame and longing

by asexuelf



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Aromantic Larry Johnson, Asexual Larry Johnson, Bisexual Ash Campbell, Bisexual Sal Fisher, Bullying, Child Abuse, Crushes, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Abuse, Pining, Queer Themes, Trauma, Travis Phelps' Mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26118235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Sal is coping with his crush. Travis has some news that complicates things even further.
Relationships: Sal Fisher & Travis Phelps, Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	the bisexual's guide to shame and longing

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to be longer, but then i lost every braincell in my head and couldn't finish xD soooo... you get this! maybe i'll add multiple chapters later on, but if i focus on chapter fics, it'll be my pre-existing ones
> 
> i hope you enjoy! 💖

Sal Fisher is used to feeling shame.

It's kind of like background noise, this shame. Like rain falling on a window or a radio playing softly from another room. It's always there just behind everything else, usually blessedly quiet enough that he can ignore it in favor of more important things. Important things such as video games, lime-flavored chips, and the gentle rumble of Gizmo purring on his feet.

Good, wholesome, unshameful things.

As good and wholesome and unshameful as being attracted to someone regardless of their gender.

Sal accepted long ago that he's bisexual. It was a little difficult at first, having no names for what he was feeling, wondering distantly if this was just another way in which he would be freakish, but Todd was happy to set him straight. Er, not straight. Bisexual.

He has Todd to thank for the word and the meaning and the short history the word had already written. And Todd probably has the internet to thank. That guy is freaky good at using the internet - Sal can barely figure out how to play Minesweeper half the time, let alone go online. Not that he needs to with Todd around to do it for him.

Sal also has his long-standing friendship with Todd to thank for his lack of shame in his bisexuality - and Larry and Ash. Henry Fisher isn't a bad man, but he's always been a little traditional, even though he works to be open-minded. If it weren't for his friends, Sal wonders sometimes if he'd be so free to accept his attraction to men - and people who aren't men or women! - as something natural and good.

Ash was shy about accepting she might be bi, but happy to talk to Sal about it as she grew more comfortable. She's even got a partner now! After crushing on Maple for so long, Sal had been worried she'd be stuck pining for a straight girl her entire highschool career, but now she's dating a handsome butch.

Larry, unlike Ash, was more of a shrugger. He was a little different than them anyhow. He was _un-_ attracted to everyone equally - so Sal and Ash figured that made him bisexual too.

"You like everybody the same amount regardless of gender," Ash had said thoughtfully. "So… Why not bisexual? That's what bi means, right?"

Larry had seemed unsure, but her logic was sound enough. "I guess that makes sense. You think there'd be another word for it, though, since it's different."

"Maybe there is." Sal had shrugged, careful not to drip black nail polish on to Larry's bedspread. "We just have to find it. Or make one."

"I will be sure to ask some of Neil's older friends," Todd had assured Larry. "My parents might be a good resource as well, having been queer activists back in the day."

The discussion had been settled, everyone gay in more than one sense of the word. It had been _settled._

Sal was bisexual. Sal was happy about being bisexual. He was absolutely not ashamed of being bisexual and because of this, knew he had the great privalege of never being ashamed of his attraction to anyone.

What a load of crock that was.

The back of Travis' head proves a distracting sight.

His roots are growing in dark, Sal notices for the thirtieth time this week, and it looks _good._ The brassy blond of his hair is bright in the cheap fluorescent lights and the roots are growing in so dark brown that they're almost black. It looks so good. Travis' hair is just long enough to be disheveled, curling cutely around his ears and a little boyishly at the nape of his neck.

_It looks so good._

On Sal's three-week progress report, it did not look so good.

This obsession with Travis is costing him. It's an awful way to think about it - _it's an awful way to treat someone who deserves better_ \- but Sal can't quite help it. He has three classes with the guy this year and in all of them, his grades are slipping. He's losing sleep, his eyelids haunted by those brown eyes and the dark lashes surrounding them. It's like he's possessed by it, hazy memories of Travis' delicate smile and careful touch invading his dreams until he wakes, staring at the ceiling and thinking _Travis Travis Travis Travis_ like sleep paralysis is taking control of him.

This obsession is costing him. Not just in grades and in sleep but in _shame._

He's bisexual and he's proud of it. Boys can be handsome and pretty and cute and good. Sal has nothing to be ashamed of.

He thinks of his friends' smiles when he talks about a boy. He thinks of Ash, excited about plans of moving in with her butch after they graduate. He thinks of Todd and Neil holding hands while Todd taps away on a keyboard with his free digits. He thinks of Larry, alone but not lonely, who laughs about being a "step-husband" to whoever Sal falls for.

He wouldn't say that if he knew who Sal has fallen for.

Shame punches through Sal's gut. He clenches his teeth, presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, bites the inside of his cheek. None of it soothes the intensity of it. None of it makes Larry’s imaginary glare any less disapproving.

Travis has hurt him. _Travis has hurt him._

"You deserve better," he can imagine Ash saying. 

He thinks of the way her face had gone robotic and empty in that way it only does when her feelings are too big for her, thinks of how gently and kindly she had smiled as she wiped his blood away. He thinks of her exchanging angry whispers with Larry, half-joking threats to kill Travis.

Travis was already being killed then. By fear and shame and guilt and _fear._ He's a different person now, but the past is only so far behind them both. Just because you aren't the person you were yesterday doesn’t mean the person you were yesterday stops being you. It doesn’t make those days and hours and painful, gruelling minutes ticked by any less real.

Travis the Bully and Travis the Healing are different people, in a way, but they’re both Travis. They both exist in Sal’s mind as the same guy.

He remembers the way Travis the Bully used to dog-tail him especially. He was cruel to the others, to a lot of kids, but he was _nasty_ to Sal. The things he said still haunt Sal even now, months after Travis' teary-eyed apologies. Sadly, being haunted by slurs and taunts and sour bile doesn't negate being haunted by earnest brown eyes or sun-kissed brown skin.

Travis pulls at the collar of his shirt, exposing momentarily a flash of his shoulder, and Sal knows his mind won't let him forget it. Just like it won't let him forget the line of tummy he'd caught eye of as Travis was stretching in gym class or the shape of his thigh when he'd pulled up his shorts to scratch at an itch or the silly giggle he laughs when Sal accidentally-on-purpose says something funny to him. Just like it won’t let him forget the feeling of his prosthetic slicing into his face, propelled by the power of Travis’ fist.

The boy of his affections turns in his seat to look at Sal. He doesn't quite smile - just looks at him with those blinking brown eyes like he's happy to see Sal still there, right where he's been the entire class. Travis is kind of like Ash that way. You can’t always trust his face; if you want to know what he’s feeling, you have to look at his eyes.

Then he puts up three fingers. _Stall 3._

They don't actually meet in the stall. That's just where it all started.

The bathroom is where they go when Travis needs to tell him something. It's where the first confession took place, so it only makes sense they’d keep going back. There's not many other places Travis feels safe enough to share a secret, especially now that Sal has figured out how to reverse-lockpick the door to keep anyone from coming in.

Sal scratches at his itchy prosthetic straps and nods, hoping his panic doesn’t show in his eyes. He's got it bad today. Hopefully he can keep it together when he's in close-contact with Travis. Those slim, nimble hands always drift so close to him when Travis talks, gesturing between his chest and Sal's face. When they sit together against the wall, they're even closer. The warmth of Travis' skin bleeds into Sal's through their sleeves, made even worse those few days Sal deins to wear a tank top.

He's wearing a tank top today.

Oh, Jesus. He won't make it through the day.

Travis has already turned away, back to scribbling notes in his notebook, but his soft smile invades Sal’s sight regardless. Sal knows it will stain his eyelids for at least three periods more, like little purple dots of light clouding his vision after staring into the sun. Travis is too bright.

Travis is too bright and Sal is too weak.

When class ends, Sal follows him to the boys’ bathroom.

-

They’re sitting elbow-to-elbow, Travis’ bicep as _soft-distracting-warm_ as he knew it would be, when the other boy finally sighs.

“Okay,” Travis says. “So, it’s taken a little while and a lot of sneaking around, but I’ve been in contact with my mother for a few weeks now.”

Sal wakes up from his stupor almost instantly. His eyes go so wide behind his prosthetic that he almost worries his glass eye will fall right into his lap. “How did you manage that?”

Travis shrugs, his mouth an uncomfortable, harshly amused line. “She wasn’t too hard to track down. I know her name and stuff, so…” He shrugs again, his shirt sleeve rubbing softly against Sal’s bare shoulder. “She actually- She was happy to hear from me! Can you believe that?”

“Travis, that’s amazing.”

The side-ways set of his mouth slides upward, sloping into a proper smile. “Yeah, it is. And, um- We’ve been talking about. About me moving in with her.”

Sal swallows, his chest aching with something sad (and something guilty). He doesn’t want Travis to go anywhere. The background noise of his life becomes loud, a pit of shame heavy in his gut. “That’s great,” he says. He tries to sound like he means it, because he does mean it. He wants Travis to be well more than anybody.

“I know!” He rubs his palms over his shorts, flexes his long fingers. His hands are smaller than Sal’s, the tips of his fingers reaching only the knuckle closest to Sal’s fingertips. It makes him feel… protective. Sal thinks about holding them, holding Travis. “I’m- excited. Nervous, but… I don’t know. It’s already official, ‘cuz she has custody, but I’m in Father’s house for the next few days while we try to get everything worked out.”

“Oh, holy shit! Why didn’t you mention any of this before?”

Travis shrugs again. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case it went bad…”

Makes sense. It’s hard for Travis to talk about this stuff, too. Travis is no stranger to shame either - for being abused, for being alone, for being attracted to people of a certain gender. Sal has tried to help him, tried to be his Todd, but it’s hard, especially when he’s battling his own shame for being attracted to a certain person that doesn’t fucking need that right now, Sal Fisher, goddamn. Travis needs a friend, now more than ever. His life is changing so suddenly. Sal has to be there for him.

_Travis is a bully. Was a bully. Is a bully. I don't have to do anything for him._

His hands are smaller than Sal’s. He thinks about holding them.

A sigh tickles Sal’s ear, brushing his baby hairs against his neck. “I’m not sure what living with Mom will be like.”

“Better than living with your dad.” Fuck you, Kenneth Phelps. “What is she like?”

“She’s really nice. Kind of grumpy, like me, but not in a mean way. Mostly she’s pretty funny.” Travis bites his lip. Sal has to look away. “She works at a hospital, which is very cool.”

“That is cool. If it weren’t for the doctors at the hospital, I wouldn’t be here.” He taps the side of his mask to make his point.

Travis blinks at him widely. “I’m glad that we have doctors, Sal.”

Sal can’t help but smile. “Me too.” It’s only half a lie. Shame, shame, shame.

“My mom lives in an apartment, like you,” Travis continues. “And it’s just in the next city, so I’ll still be able to go to school here! She said she’s even going to help me get a car, just so I can drive to school even if she gets called into the hospital.”

Relief sets in, and with it, more guilt. “Where does she live?”

“Luminport. So not too far from Nockfell.”

But still nearly a half-hour drive. Distantly, he wonders why she didn’t move further away. “You’d have to wake up really early.”

Travis snorts. “I wake up early anyways. I have to be awake before Father to make sure I can avoid him or be quick enough to obey him.”

“I really don’t like that man.”

This time, Travis doesn’t snort, his amusement curling into something angrier. “Yeah. I’m starting to feel that way a lot too…”

They lean on each other, Travis looking deep in thought and Sal staring up at him. He’s relieved, still, to know he won’t be missing the sight of his gentle jaw, his soft cheeks, his sharp nose, but he’s worried too. Will the continuing habits that he began to avoid his father’s abuse hurt him in the long run? Surely he’d be happier at another school, closer to his mother, farther from his father (farther from Sal).

“Can I share something dumb?”

Sal nods quickly.

“I’m excited for the long car rides with Mom before I can get my own,” he admits. He says it all in one breath, like it’s wrong to say that he might be happy about something. That he might enjoy getting closer to someone. “She’s easy to talk to.”

“I’m glad. Speaking of talking… Does she, um- Does she _know?”_

Sal doesn’t have to say any more than that. Travis nods, his face thoughtful. “Yeah… I, uh. I told her. Warned her, more like, the first time we talked about me moving in with her. I- wasn’t sure if she’d want a homosexual living in her house.”

The way he says it… So clinical, almost cold, makes Sal have to repress a shudder. Like it's a disease that he has. At least it’s better than the vast collection of slurs he has in his repertoire. It’s not quite acceptance, but at least it isn’t as cruel as it can be.

“How did she react?” Sal tries.

Travis looks away. “She’s like you. Well, I don’t know if she’s- bisexual.” He says it much more awkwardly than he did _homosexual_. “But she’s… supportive." He turns back to Sal, looking very bewildered. “She went on a whole, like, tirade against homophobia. It was so fucking weird.”

That makes Sal laugh, ducking his chin to his chest until his mask tugs uncomfortably. “You’re so fucking weird. I’m glad she’s supportive. And you know that other thing I like to say-”

Travis rolls his eyes, mocking in a nasally voice, “‘Even if you are damned, there’s no reason for your life to be Hell on Earth.’ Yeah, yeah. I don’t even know if I believe in all that God stuff anymore. Shit’s so confusing.”

“It definitely is…”

Travis sighs and leans his head against Sal's, squashing down the pigtail with his cheek. "Well… Hopefully being at Mom's place will help."

Sal gazes up at Travis' hopeful face and feels his chest start to ache. "Yeah. I hope so too."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading 💕


End file.
